The Fall of Vistas
by Goldsaver
Summary: The story of a isolated non-aligned human planet that comes under assault of the forces of Chaos


The Staff of Life

Chaos had come to Vitas. And when it had come, it struck like a lightning bolt out of a clear sky. Within minutes, a great civilization crumbled; politics, business, and even romance all became meaningless within hours. Chaos is a cancer upon the galaxy; it corrupts everything it touches, and when you believe it to be gone, it reemerges. The gates of hell opened upon the planet, and what poured from it would drive even the strongest willed man to madness; horrid creatures of chaos came, slaughtering without any concept of innocent or combatants. But what is worst about chaos is not the monsters formed from the negative thoughts of man that reside in it. No, what is most horrible about chaos are the monsters formed from the shells of what used to be good men; the Lost and the Damned. All those who remained on the planet could do is fight, against the Daemons and their own twisted brothers. And hope against all despair that they could pull through this, Love their remaining brothers and sisters as they die with them. But even their hope and love feed Chaos; and what use is there fighting against something formed from the worst and the best of humanity? But humanity is not known for its giving up in hopelessness; the people of this planet would fight Chaos until death takes them. It was all they could do; all they knew what to do. Vitas would not die without a fight.

In the midst of a smoldering ruin, what had once been this planet's greatest metropolis, there was a single man kneeling. By his side, planted in the ground, was a great staff, decorated with phrases and murals of the Old Terra; this staff pulsed with energy. One end of the staff was flat, the incredibly powerful material used to make it making this end a blunt weapon of great crushing power; the other end, an incredibly sharp spear; so sharp, in fact, that it could pierce even the great Space Marine power armor. This was not a young staff; it was forged at the height of the Dark Age of Technology, made from a material whose name and atomic composition are long lost. Its wielder, by contrast, was incredibly young; no more than twenty. A robe covered his stout, strong body, but he had no armor of any kind; certain energy surrounded the young man. He was a Psyker.

He knelt over an old tome, looking for some old spell, some tactic to deal with these invaders. He felt safe here; the Chaos had moved on, killed or converted, brainwashed more likely, everyone in the city. Peitharchia Iokes was his name; he had no family, he was born a servant to an aristocratic family, named based off of the deities of one of the Ancients of Old Terra. Peitharchia, the spirit of obedience, for that was what was expected of him; Iokes, the spirit of battle, for that was what his family was first expected to do, but once his personal nature as a Psyker was revealed, he was confined to a more domestic role, though he was still well versed in the way of combat. His masters were among the first killed, in this very city. The mother of the household, who was so cruel to him, gave her body and soul to Slannesh; she struck down most of her family in agnonus torture before their eldest daughter took her down; only the daughter escaped. Iokes smiled when he thought of this; his slave-drivers were dead, so he was free. And the eldest daughter, Grace Athena, had escaped; that was good as well, for she treated him with an amount of affectionate kindness. His thoughts turned away from them, as he returned to his task, when he heard loud stomps behind his back; he grabbed his staff, and turned to this pursuer as he rose to his feet.

He stood back in horror at what he faced. His crimson armor burned into his eyes; he carried a chain sword, the sound of its motor echoing across the area. Markings of an alien variety marked his torso plate; a small triangle as its base, two straight wide lines stretched out from it, while two more lines went above the original two in a diagonal fashion; Iokes immediately recognized it. The mark of Khorne, the God of Blood, Rage, and Battle. The figure was massive; easily triple the size of a normal man. His armor was massive, seemingly invincible; a Chaos Space Marine. His face was marred; his skin clinged tight, and his cheekbones made visible marks in his skin. His eyes had no pupils or irises; just a great pool of dirty white. To call this creature of Chaos a human is a stretch at best; as a Space Marine, it would be questionable if he were human, but this creature, so twisted by the Warp and his own rage, was more like an animal, a manifestation of his Blood God. He grinned; his rotten, hideous teeth showed as his mouth opened wide. He expected an easy kill, and a rotten Psyker's blood flowing would please Khorne. It struck Iokes that this was not an ordinary Chaos Space Marine; there was so much power coming off of him. He was a Champion of Khorne. Iokes stepped up; if he died here, then so be it, but he would give this twisted husk a fight. He spoke in an angry manner, without a tinge of fear in his voice.

"Invader...You dare to set foot on my world? Many have thought themselves a threat to this place; all have fallen, little more than a mass grave in this planet's collective memory." Iokes stomped his staff against the ground; the Champion gripped his head in pain slightly, and Iokes quickly took note of this. "If you want this damned planet, you're going to have to take it from my cold dead hands. My name is Peitharchia Iokes, and this is my planet! " Iokes knew this would not affect the Champion in the slightest; at least, if he perished, he could take pride that he verbally attacked Chaos.

The Champion laughed; not a human laugh, however. It sounded like the laugh of a monster, the howling chuckle of a hyena upon its prey. Iokes wondered if this is what Khorne sounded like, if this was the laugh of the thirsting Blood God. Iokes stepped back as the Champion began to speak; he was surprised such a being could put enough coherent thoughts to produce words. "Iokes? If you have fight in you to back up your words, then maybe I'll gift your skull. If not, then some blood flowing will give Khorne a nice little morsel."

Iokes gripped his staff, and braced himself as the Champion charged. When he charged, the world around shook; he was like a force of nature, angry, vengeful, merciless, and completely unstoppable. Iokes rolled out of the way; the Champion caught himself and turned towards the young Psyker, still running on the momentum of his charge. His Chainsword sprung to life with a loud clang, a grinding noise piercing the air as he made the first blow. He aimed for the stomach, hoping to rip out the Psyker's bowels in one blow. Iokes bent his body back, barely avoiding the Champion's blow, as he took a step back and swung his staff as the Champion pulled his chainsword back; his staff made contact, the blunt end smashing against the Champion's jaw. Iokes stepped back, as the Champion paused, spitting out a mouthful of blood and teeth; his jaw was shattered, but the Space Marine was already healing the wound. It was now Iokes realized what he was dealing with fully; that blow would of ruined a mortal, forced them to eat from a tube for the rest of their life, and certainly make them unable to continue to battle. But to a Space Marine, such a blow was equal to a scratch.

The Champion grinned again, his mouth now filling with blood. There was now a great amount of distance between the two, so he charged again. This time, Iokes put out the spear end of his staff the moment he was in range; the momentum of the Champion as the Spear pierced through his armor caused him to be impaled wholly on the staff. Blood poured from the wound massively; Iokes had pierced one of the Champion's hearts. The Champion grunted in agony as a certain energy began to emit from the staff; the wound spread, even as the spear remained in his body; his veins began to glow a sickening green; the Champion raised his chainsword to attempt to kill the Psyker, and Iokes quickly withdrew his spear from the Champion as he fell back. He saw the Champion grip his wound; he saw in those blank eyes fear… no, not fear; knowledge of possible defeat. Iokes allowed himself the slightest bit of confidence right before all hell broke loose.

It was a large explosion; Iokes was sent flying several feet away. He gripped his head in pain as he felt something; like the Warp itself had entered into this area. Iokes knew what the pain meant; the warp was trying to worm its way into the Psyker's mind; he gripped his staff, which he had dropped in his flight, and the pain in his head faded away. He looked upon what had come, and nearly yelped when he saw its pure, awe-inspiring beauty. _A Daemonette. _Iokes thought to himself; it was the only thought he could get into his head when gazing upon the entrancing figure. It was both revolting, a creature born of the darkest and most heinous desires of man, and incredibly beautiful; her... its, Iokes quickly reminded himself, movements were fluid and elegant, its graceful steps almost impossible to look away from…no, truly impossible to look away from. Iokes felt the faint whisper of her voice creeping in the back of his skull, as she made a graceful dance towards him; Iokes released his staff and fell to his knees, using every ounce of his willpower to combat the Daemonette. It continued to move towards him, as suddenly Iokes felt the rumble again; the rumble of the Champion's charge. He saw the Champion charge from his side; he certainly had no trouble resisting the Slanneshi's temptations. The Slanneshi Daemontee's mind was distracted from its attempts to overwhelm Iokes for the slightest movement; it was all he needed. Iokes, with a great amount of effort, grasped his staff, as he turned to the engagement.

The Champion was on the losing end of the battle; at full strength, he would have cleaved the rotten Slanneshi in half without a second though, but he was certainly not at full strength. The illusion of the Daemonette faded away as Iokes gripped his staff; it came to his mind that this staff had something in it that was anathema to the warp, piercing its rotten illusions and glimpsing on the truth. The rotten beast of Slannesh looked as hideous as its origins were; two crab-like claws it had opposed to arms and it had almost raptor-like claws for feet. Its face looked barely human, and it was twisted into a sneer. It moved unnaturally, digging into the Champion's wound with its claws, slicing away bits and pieces of skin as it danced around him in unnaturally graceful movements. The Champion took it stoically; trying in vain to land a blow with his chainsword on the agile servant of Slannesh. It was clear the beast would kill him, and then it would move on to Iokes.

Iokes gripped his staff, holding the spear-end out in front of him. He felt anger; rage, even, at this beast. How many of his kin had this monstrosity seduced and murdered? This creature preys upon men, twisting good men into servants of their rotten hedonistic God. He tended the fires of his rage, gripping the staff, which began to glow red, as he pushed the Slanneshi out of his mind entirely. He gripped his spear tighter, and charged, the ground shaking under his feet, as he let loose his staff in a mighty toss; the Daemonette screamed as it made contact, piercing its torso. When Iokes looked into its eyes, he knew the creature was not feeling any sensation; no pain, not even the slightest sensation from the world on its skin. The staff nulled all sensation, and for a servant of Slannesh this was the greatest agony. The creature began to disintegrate; not to simply be cast out into the warp, but to be destroyed entirely. The monstrosity let out a piercing scream as it began to glow a sickly red color; its body began to fade into dust, and then even the dust vanished. Iokes simply watched for minutes as the creature died in the agony of oblivion; it would not even get the slightest joy of being taken by its false god. Its dust would lie on this planet, forever.

The staff clinked as it made contact with the ground; Iokes fell to his knees once more, mentally and physically drained by the experience. He maintained consciousness for a short time; he saw the Khornate take his staff, and as Iokes fell to the ground to pass out, the Champion dropped his staff in front of the fading Iokes, leaving when he fell to unconscious; he had shamed his god today, and he would get no glory for taking the skull of the one who defeated the foe he could not without a fight. Iokes went to the world of dreams, and he could only wonder where he might wake up.


End file.
